Isolation
by dexterously-inept
Summary: She was an assassin. He was a banished Prince. He shouldn't mean anything to her. So why couldn't she bring herself to just kill the hotheaded idiot? / Rated T for scenes involving violence and gore. (NOT UPDATING FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE!)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story may start out a little confusing, and Shila may seem a little… Well, deranged? But I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while now, so I figured why not finally write it down? I hope you enjoy it! I'm not really one for A/N's at the start of a chapter, so I'll just get to the point:**

 **This story is rated T, but I may change it depending on how things go. It will have themes suitable for an older audience. I will be writing the 100 Year War a bit more realistically than the cartoon depicted, so expect quite a bit of gore and violence as the story gets rolling. I will place specific warnings in later chapters once things get more graphic.**

 **And of course, I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, or any of the characters!**

 **(P.S. "Shila" is an Inuit name relating to fire. The Water Tribe connection will make sense later on, I promise!)**

* * *

 **ISOLATION**

 **CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

" _Every act of creation is first an act of destruction."_

 _\- Pablo Picasso_

* * *

The building was in flames when she arrived. Bright and red, they licked hungrily at the space, greedily consuming all around it. She could hear the laughter of her siblings from beyond the destruction, followed by the screams of her target.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she walked calmly amongst the flames. The heat brushed against her skin, seeming to reach out to her, as if in recognition of her strength. Unlike the others, she was worthy of her element. Fire, she knew, was not easily controlled. You could not simply wield it; you must demand obedience, your presence should dominate the hatred of fire.

She sighed, lifting her arms slightly to brush her fingertips affectionately over the flames. "You must forgive them," she said. "I'm afraid they will never learn from their ignorance."

Another sigh. They _couldn't_ learn – not as she had. She was the only of Father Satish's children to have been kissed by fire. The rest were lucky to produce their feral flames, but they could hope for nothing more. It wasn't often that a true Child of Fire was born into the world.

She could smell the scene before she could see it: singed flesh and blood. It was an odor she was quite familiar with, although that did not lessen her distaste for it. Behind the burnt wreckage of what once had been a home sat a courtyard etched entirely in stone, the only aspect of the property that stood impervious to the flames. It was here she found her siblings, covered in gore and torturing the remaining members of the household.

They would never learn. Silently, she drew a blade, throwing it with an easy flick of the wrist and lodging it into the throat of one of her siblings. The girl sputtered, blood trickling from her mouth as she collapsed to the ground. The remaining siblings looked around the courtyard with wide eyes before their shocked gaze finally settled on her.

"My Lady Shila!" the remaining children chorused, stooping into respectful bows, immediately ceasing their unsightly behavior. The scene was now silent, aside from the crackling of hungry flames and the whimpers of their targets.

Shila walked slowly, almost lazily, towards the group, her expression a mask of indifference. "You dishonor us," she said quietly, stopping before them. The targeted family stared at her with wide eyes, or at least what was left of them: the servants had been slaughtered, along with what appeared to be the family's grandparents. Now all that remained was a young boy and his two parents.

"M-my Lady, I – " one began, only to be cut off by Shila's glare.

"I have no patience for your insolence," she continued, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the sounds of destruction. "Your weakness is a constant hindrance. If Father Satish would allow it, I would kill you all right here."

Several heads snapped up in surprise, their eyes wide with fear.

"Yes, I would very much like to kill you." Shila stooped beside the body of her fallen sister, brushing a strand of black hair from her face before retrieving the blade from her neck. She was not a wasteful woman. "But I'm afraid that isn't an option. You will put out these flames and search the property for valuables. You will then return home and explain what has happened to Father Satish."

"Yes, My Lady!"

"Right away, ma'am!"

"We won't fail you again, Lady Shila!"

Shila dismissed them all with a wave. They dispersed immediately, leaving her alone with her targets. She looked down at them calmly, tilting her head slightly to the side as if she were a curios little girl rather than a killer.

"P-please!" the father suddenly exclaimed, finding his courage in the absence of her siblings. "Take whatever you'd like, just please spare my son!"

 _Foolish man,_ she thought dully. _Although I must commend his bravery._

She ignored his plea, instead turning her attention to the young boy. Like his parents, he sat on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest as he shook, silent tears streaming down his face. Shila crouched before him, her yellow eyes meeting his.

"Fire isn't to be feared, child," she told him, summoning her flames so that they now consumed her finger tips. She held her hand between herself and the child, the fire dancing around her fingers as they flicked from red to yellow to blue. "It is both life and death. Fire is beautiful." She cupped his cheek in her hand, his mother letting out a choked sob as she watched helplessly.

"Be quiet, stupid woman. Unlike my siblings, I have control. His skin will not burn," Shila snapped, her mood suddenly soured. This family was weak, and Shila had no patience for weakness. She sighed again – and to think, she had hoped this mission would be _fun_. "…Unless I want it to."

"Please! Just tell us what you want!" the woman begged despite Shila's previous warning. Shila felt the fire within her grow, and in a flash of temper she allowed for her hungry flames to lick the boy's cheek. His scream was piercing, and within seconds he was on the ground, writhing in agony with his hands clutching his cheek.

The woman scrambled to reach out to her son, but her husband restrained her. "Do you want to make things worse?" he hissed into her ear.

Shila grinned wickedly, her once even temperament now gone. "Your husband has more sense than you. I suggest you listen to him." She glanced down at the boy one last time, a frown tugging at her full lips.

She stood, her arms swinging limply at her sides, her beautiful flames extinguished for the time being. "It disgusts me how the rich act," she began, her tone cold. "The Ajibana's contribute to this horrible war only for personal gain. You indirectly kill others, and yet you have the audacity to beg for my mercy?" She let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "No one as selfish as yourselves deserve to live."

Shila's eyes flashed dangerously, and she clenched her fists, the subtle command causing for both adults to go up in flames. The screams only lasted a split second before they were gone; Shila's flames were too hot, and she watched with a troubled expression as their flesh melted away, leaving behind nothing but a smoldering heap of ash and bones.

Tears welled up in the young woman's eyes suddenly, and she turned her back on the scene, taking several steps away and tilting her face upwards to take in the starry sky. Three deaths, three kills. She'd had far worse nights, but the toll it took was all the same.

"Fire is life," she said to no one in particular. "My burden is too heavy to bear."

She closed her eyes, letting a few stray tears trickle down her cheeks. Behind her, much to her surprise, she felt the boy begin to stir. She hadn't finished him, but he hadn't been a target to begin with.

 _I let my temper get the better of me_. She should never have hurt the child, and immediately she felt regret. To kill a target was one thing, but to kill an innocent, to her, was unforgiveable.

Children of Fire were known for their short tempers. Shila, carrying within her the element's purest form, was no exception; if anything, being kissed by fire made her emotions fluctuate more than her siblings, but she thankfully was more disciplined than they were.

She heard the child stumble to his feet, pausing for a moment before charging at her, a tiny battle cry tumbling from his lips. Shila whirled around easily, knocking him aside with a single hand. He stayed down this time, his burnt face contorting in grief. She felt a pang of pity; he couldn't have been older than ten, and yet his life had already known so much suffering.

Shila smiled kindly down at him, the child returning her gaze with defiant hatred in his eyes. She was impressed by his lack of fear. She crouched before him once again, this time cupping his chin in her hand, forcing his wide eyes to peer into her own.

"I am not sorry for what has happened, but I am sorry that you must live through this," she told him softly, brushing hair back from his face gently, as would a mother to her child. "Your parent's crimes were not your own. You are not a target."

The Ajibana family was one of the older houses in the Earth Kingdom. They had once owned bountiful mines that had made their family unbelievably rich and powerful, but said mines had recently become less fruitful. They had since fallen into less reputable practices, forcing their miners to go too deep for too little pay. In order to stretch their dwindling fortune, they had also begun investing in the war effort. With conquest, many had found, came new lands and wealth. Father Satish does not tolerate such behavior, and so they had been targeted.

The child still seemed at a loss for words, overcome by his pain and grief. "Your suffering will never pass," she told him sagely. "But it will make you strong. No one is stronger than those who once paid the ultimate price for weakness."

Shila turned his face to the side, looking down with distaste at the ugly mark scarring his cheek. _That stupid woman just_ had _to push me,_ she thought with a scowl. Her handprint was etched into his flesh, the mark sticky and red. It would leave a scar - that much was certain.

Shila stood, her self-loathing threatening to overcome her. "You're a brave boy," she said. "I respect that quality, which is why you will live tonight. I invite you to find me again someday, when you're strong enough and fueled by enough hatred to stand a chance against me."

And with that she turned, exiting the same way she'd arrived. Her siblings had long since departed and were most likely at home receiving their punishments. Shila began to subconsciously walk home despite the blankness of her mind.

She always felt numb after a mission. It was easier, she found, to feel nothing in the face of so many emotions. Taking the lives of others slowly sapped away at her own humanity, she knew, but she would continue until it killed her.

 _For Father Satish._ Everything was for him, for he'd once given her everything. He'd saved her from her pain - he'd given her a _purpose._

Shila clenched her fists, her skin oddly sticky. Glancing down she realized that her hands were bloody, most likely from touching the face of that boy.

Tears once again spilled down her cheeks. Yes, she would do anything for Father Satish. She owed _everything_ to him. But that didn't keep her from wishing that her hands could remain clean, at least for a while.

Fire was life, but Shila brought only death.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Here's a tame little murder scene to get things heated up. Sorry for any typos I might've missed, I'm not the best at editing so I'll fix more of them as I reread this later on! More explanation and whatnot as to what's happening to come, as well as some kickass fight scenes, so you should definitely follow/favorite this story so you can catch the next update!**

 **Also… PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU'RE ENJOYING THUS FAR! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**ISOLATION**

 **CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

" _What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans, and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty or democracy?"_

\- _Mahatma Ghandi_

* * *

It was late at night when Shila returned to the compound. The lamps had long since been extinguished, plunging the area into darkness. Curfew was long ago, and no one dared be out without permission. The darkness didn't bother her in the slightest; despite its size, Shila could navigate the compound from memory.

Her home sat on a great span of flat, cleared land isolated within an uninhabited forest. On it sat five buildings, each large enough to house several people, with two homes dedicated to Father Satish's use and the remaining three housing her siblings and their mothers. Shila lived in one of Father Satish's homes, the one he used to house guests and hold meetings.

Her room sat at the end of a long hallway on the second floor of the home. It was a moderately sized space – it held a comfortable bed, dresser, mirror, and a door that led to a small washroom. Not that it was important to her; she hardly spent time in the room, and when she did it was normally to sleep.

Tonight, however, she wasn't interested in sleep. Her mind was too heavily burdened for rest, a feeling she was quite accustomed to. Instead she went to her washroom, washing the blood from her skin in a water basin. Moonlight filtered in through a high window, etching out her features in the pale light.

Shila didn't bother to dry herself. Instead, gripping the edges of the basin with white knuckles, she regarded her reflection in the mirror before her. Her hair, still fastened in its usual braid down her back, had come slightly loose, allowing for dark brown curls to escape and fall around her face.

She brushed her hair back with damp fingers, then trailing her hand down the side of her face; over the edge of her sharp cheekbones, all the way down to the smooth brown skin of her chest. Her skin was darker than many of her siblings, a trait she'd inherited from her mother. In fact, she resembled her mother quite a bit, as loathe as she was to admit it.

Her faint freckles, full lips, wide nose. If it weren't for her amber eyes, almost seeming to glow in contrast with the mocha color of her skin, Shila would be identical to her mother. The more she grew, the more she resembled the woman.

Shila felt heat rise to her face, an angry flush painting her cheeks. She turned quickly from the mirror, storming out of the washroom and closing the door sharply behind her. She knew better than to get caught up in that line of thinking. For Shila, the subject of her mother was taboo. It was simply too painful. Instead she let out a sigh, as she often did, and sat on the edge of her bed.

 _I've the strangest feeling,_ she thought. _I'm so sad and I can't seem to understand why._

Shila valued control. She controlled her element, controlled her siblings, but she could never seem to control her emotions. Control required understanding, and she refused to even acknowledge her pain.

A knock at her door snapped her out of her melancholy.

"Enter," she said.

The door swung open, revealing a tall, gangly young man. "Lady Shila," he greeted her with a lopsided grin.

The corners of her mouth quirked slightly. "Shingi," she replied. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Shingi was one of the few Children of Fire she could tolerate; actually, she was quite fond of the boy. She'd known him since Father Satish brought her to the compound, their closeness in age originally drawing them together, and their friendship was a comfortable one, as well as one of the only ones Shila actually had.

"Father Satish wishes to see you," he said, pausing with a frown. "It's unlike you to not report right away. Is everything okay?"

It _was_ unlike her – Shila was a stickler for protocol, so long as it was _Father Satish's_ protocol. She too was surprised that she'd forgotten, but she dismissed her surprise quickly. It was late; her mind felt numb and her heart heavy. She told herself that her lapse in character was simply due to fatigue.

 _Emotional weakness is still weakness,_ she scolded, forcing herself to once again ignore the unease in the back of her mind. She'd been feeling increasingly _strange_ lately, and her tolerance with herself was growing thin.

"I'm fine," she answered shortly, rising from her seat. "It simply slipped my mind."

Shingi frowned but didn't press the matter further. He knew that Shila wasn't an open person – she could hardly open up to herself – and he must respect her wish for privacy.

"You gave the girls quite a scare, I heard," Shingi changed the subject as he led her to Father Satish. "They were practically _giddy_ with their punishment. I've never seen them so happy to get fifteen lashes."

Shila scowled, rolling her eyes dramatically. "They're idiots," she seethed. "They would've burned down the entire village had I not arrived." She paused, adding with a mock pout, "And I only threatened them."

Shingi snorted. "And killed one."

Shila sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "They're nothing more than animals. It's why I prefer solo missions."

"They still share your blood, it's bad luck to spill it yourself," he told her, his voice still holding hints of amusement.

"Oh, enough with the silly superstitions." She crossed her arms as if annoyed, but her mood was undeniably lightened. Shingi could always make her smile.

They then arrived at Father Satish's office, the great wooden doors left slightly ajar. Shila straightened herself, pushing back her shoulders and nodding at her friend before entering the room.

Father Satish sat at his desk, his back turned to her as he looked out a large window. Immediately, Shila threw herself into a respectful bow, her forehead pressed against the cold floor.

"Rise," he said, his voice deep and gravelly. Shila's heart fluttered at the very sound of his voice; Father Satish always had this affect over her, his mere presence filled her with joy, but also a great fear. Her fear was understood – even expected – because to feel anything less than fear in the attendance of such a powerful man was ignorant and disrespectful.

Shila obeyed immediately, jumping to her feet, her posture once again rigid. He now faced her, and Shila met his familiar eyes with a blank expression. She would never show weakness in front of Father Satish.

"I do not usually have to remind you of your duties. Begin your report," he said shortly, his annoyance with her behavior causing her stomach to drop. She couldn't bear his disappointment.

Shila began to recount the events of her mission in a toneless voice, careful not to miss a single detail. Throughout her explanation, Father Satish's face remained devoid of expression: his heavy brow shadowing his yellow eyes, black hair a sharp contrast with his pale skin. He had the sharp, angular features of the Fire Nation.

"Two were targeted, and instead you kill three and injure one," Father Satish said upon the completion of her report, the slight downturn of his mouth making his displeasure evident. Shila's blood ran cold with shame.

"I allowed for things to get out of hand. I will accept any punishment you deem just."

Father Satish shook his head in response. "I will allow for a warning, just this once," he told her. "Besides, I have another mission for you."

 _Another mission? But I've just returned from the last!_ She wanted to argue – it was tiring, taking so many lives – but she would sooner die than question an order from Father Satish. She owed him her absolute obedience.

Her mind wandered back to the day he'd discovered her: small and cold, he'd found her in a dirty two-room shack crying over a pile of ash that had once been a makeshift doll. It was also the day she'd discovered her bending, and she refused to believe that the two incidents were entirely unrelated.

After all, Father Satish had been the one to give her the gift of fire.

Yes, she would obey. She would always obey.

* * *

Shila returned to her room nearly an hour later, falling immediately onto her bed. She felt drained, especially when mulling over the task Father Satish had given her, but it did nothing to lessen her evident insomnia. She was correct in her earlier assumption that she would not sleep that night.

Children of Fire did not accept all missions, or rather Father Satish did not accept all missions; he was a man of deep moral conviction, a quality that she quite admired, and therefore he did not take a hit lightly. He would only sentence a guilty person to death – one guilty of crimes of inhumanity. War crimes, usually. This disgusting war had bred so much hatred into the world, so much suffering, that Shila had a plethora of targets to eradicate.

But a Prince? She'd never been tasked with a mission of such difficulty, not that this particularly surprised her; she was the strongest Child of Fire, aside from Father Satish himself, and was tasked with the most important missions.

The mission was unlike her usual tasks though, and certainly required more espionage than she'd needed in the past. She was to go undercover; to infiltrate the ship of a banished Fire Nation Prince and gather information on the whereabouts of the Avatar before exterminating her two targets.

" _Their names are Prince Zuko and General Iroh. They're responsible for the deaths of innocents and therefore must be punished, but our client asks that we use his resources to discover the fate of the Avatar before acting,"_ Father Satish had explained, but offered no additional information.

She'd accepted the job without complaint, but now unease gnawed at her gut. The task at hand seemed impossible: not only was she to take out two members of the royal family, one was the _Dragon of the West_! Shila was familiar with the tales of his conquests, and although his contributions to the war disgusted her, she couldn't ignore his apparent strength. He was a fire bending _master,_ and that was a title not to be taken lightly.

The matter of infiltrating Prince Zuko's ranks was another troubling issue. She knew nothing of him or the level of security on the ship. Thus far, her best idea was to pose as a stowaway.

Shila simply couldn't seem to be able to shake her nerves, and the anxiety was beginning to annoy her.

"You need to control your emotions," she reprimanded herself. "Father Satish will not tolerate any more mistakes."

But she _couldn't_ ; her control was wavering, as she'd demonstrated on her previous mission, and she didn't understand the cause of it. It felt as though she was forgetting something.

As though guided by her subconscious, her thoughts yet again began to shift towards her memories of her mother. Her familiar face suddenly came to mind and the fire bender had to struggle to hold back tears.

She refused to cry over that wretched woman. She'd entirely convinced herself that she _hated_ her, so why did her memory fill her with so much guilt and grief? The woman was dead, as she had been for a long time.

 _She was a weak woman,_ she reminded herself. _She caused you incredible pain._

Still, Shila found herself walking across the room, slowly pulling out the top drawer of her dresser. Inside it sat a long, black box. She retrieved the box, closing the drawer and setting the item on the top surface of the dresser, opening the box and pulling out its contents.

Within it sat a long, lethal-looking silver blade. It had a black hilt, the wicked curve of the knife causing the polished silver to glint in the moonlight, revealing its faintly etched calligraphy:

" _Only fire can extinguish darkness."_

Shila held the blade with shaking hands, the tears that she'd been fighting to repress suddenly streaming down her cheeks. She realized with a shock what had been bothering her, the memory finally revealing itself to her from the depths of her subconscious.

It had been five years today, then. She could hardly believe so much time had passed since her mother's death, and despite her reluctance to admit it, the guilt and sadness she'd been experiencing was entirely related to her demise.

It wasn't exactly difficult to understand the reason behind her emotions: five years ago, on that very night, Shila had slid this dagger into her mother's neck.

* * *

 **Author's Note: This chapter was a bit of a snore, I have to admit. But interesting stuff is to come! I'm going to try to keep this story kind of fast paced because I have a lot of ground to cover.**

 **Thanks for reading, and if you've enjoyed the story PLEASE REVIEW! Seriously, reviews encourage me to update quicker – daily updates** _ **definitely**_ **aren't my usual thing, so I'll need your help to keep motivated!**

 **(Also, please excuse any typos I may make. I'm editing this entirely on my own – I don't have a beta!)**


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